


all your heartbreaking devices

by quiettewandering



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Jealous Castiel, M/M, Miscommunication, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-10-06 06:13:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10327556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiettewandering/pseuds/quiettewandering
Summary: Castiel and Dean have been roommates and best friends for years. Castiel's never told Dean the gravity of his feelings for him; but when Dean starts dating Lisa, practically parading the relationship in front of him, Castiel finds he can't keep quiet about his feelings any longer.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this drabble as a prompt from my lovely friend Lexi (@caslikescoffeeandfreckles) a little while back, and I want to document it on ao3 in case it gets lost in my tumblr world 8-)

Castiel is about to fit his key into his apartment door when he hears the voices: Dean’s gruff baritone mixed with a lilting melodic voice.

Lisa’s voice.

Castiel rests his forehead against the door, shopping bags in his hands lightly hitting the pale wood. He squeezes his eyes shut and wills himself not to be upset that it’s the sixth day of the week that Lisa has been at their apartment. 

He tries not to be bothered that for the last month Dean has been utterly obsessed with this girl: from late night phone calls to taking her to romantic dinners softened by candlelight.

Cas tries to ignore the fact that he’s inexplicably jealous of Lisa.

Taking a shaky breath, he opens the squeaky door and fumbles into their foyer with his grocery bags.

“Heya Cas!” Dean calls over Lisa’s trailing laughter. “Did ya remember the yogurt?”

Castiel frowns at the floor as he toes his shoes off. “Yes, but… you never eat yogurt.”

When Castiel looks up, Dean is in front of him, cheeks flushed with joy and eyes sparkling. “No, but Lisa does.” He takes the bags from Cas, their hands brushing, and disappears into the kitchen.

Lisa is sitting under their orange afghan on the couch, dark hair pinned in a messy bun, white teeth bared in a smile.

“Hello, Castiel,” she says sunnily.

“Hello, Lisa.” Castiel feels like something fuzzy is caught in his throat. “You have a craving for yogurt?”

Lisa blinks. “What?”

“Dean said… yogurt…” Castiel suddenly feels stupid.

“Oh!” Lisa clicks her fingers. “Yeah, I eat yogurt for breakfast.”

As Castiel stands there idiotically trying to process that sentence, Dean pipes up from the kitchen, “Oh yeah I was gonna ask you, Cas, is it okay that Lisa stays over tonight? You got no big parties planned here, right?”

“Oh. Yes, right,” Castiel croaks. His brain isn’t processing information fast enough for this conversation. He mumbles, “I need to prepare for my lecture tomorrow,” and makes a beeline for his room.

He stands there behind his closed door, leather bag draped precariously on his shoulder, staring at the faded grey carpet.

Castiel is _not_ in love with Dean Winchester.

Sure, he loves _things_ about Dean. He loves the way that Dean scrunches his nose when he laughs. The way he swings that cute butt back and forth when he scrambles eggs in the morning and whistles old 80’s pop tunes. Castiel even grudgingly loves the way that Dean doesn’t fold all his laundry at once and leaves various pairs of pants and underwear flung over the living room for days.

But he doesn’t love _him._

For one, Dean Winchester is most definitely straight, if the string of girls that have paraded through their apartment over the years is anything to go by.

And not to mention, Castiel is far too busy in his tenure year as a linguistics associate professor to think about these things.

Such as, the way Lisa kisses Dean lightly behind his neck when he does his little breakfast dances in the kitchen, or the way Lisa cleans up Dean’s laundry before Castiel has a chance to get irritated with it.

Castiel throws his bag on the ground. Slamming his laptop onto his desk, he determinedly begins his lecture notes.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Cas.”

Castiel sleepily raises his head from his desk and wipes a strand of drool from his mouth. “Huh?”

He hears Dean chuckle softly beside him. “You fell asleep, dummy.” He feels Dean’s strong hands on his shoulders, guiding him to the bed. “I was worried when you didn’t emerge to eat your rabbit food for dinner.”

“It’s a kale salad,” Castiel murmurs into his pillow. He can feel his glasses pushed errantly to the side of his cheek, but he doesn’t care.

“Rabbit food,” Dean emphasizes. Castiel can feel Dean’s careful fingers pick his glasses off his cheek and set them on the bedside table. He can feel the weight of the mattress sag with Dean’s weight as he sits on the edge.

“Hey, Cas?”

Cas grunts into the pillow in reply.

“I just… I’m wondering what do you think of Lisa?”

Castiel’s brain snaps awake and his chest feels constricted. “Fine,” he murmurs into the pillow.

“’cause, I haven’t brought someone home like this in a while, you know? Well, possibly ever. And she’s nice, you know? She’s cute and the kind of girl you bring home to your parents. And I just… want to know what you think.”

Castiel sits up, realizing he won’t get any sleep just yet. He rubs a drowsy eye with his fist. “If you like her, Dean, then my opinion doesn’t matter in this situation.”

“But it does!” Dean’s face is imploring, and he’s leaning forward, _so_ close in Castiel’s space. “You’re my best friend, Cas. I want to know what you think.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Castiel insists, shrinking away from Dean.

“Just—tell me, man.”

“She’s nice.”

“Nice?”

“And clean.”

Dean throws his arms in the air. “Jesus, Cas. Gimme anything, seriously. Anything to tell me I’m doing the right thing.”

Lowering his hand, Castiel stares right into Dean’s earnest eyes. “You really want to know?”

Dean nods.

“She cares about you. When you’re not looking, she gives you these glancing smiles, like people do when they like someone. And they’re genuine. She picks up your messes, which is always a good thing because you’re sort of a slob.” Dodging Dean’s swatting hand, he continues, “And she’s pretty. Beautiful, even. The kind of…” He clears his throat, feeling that fuzzy sensation in his throat again. “The kind of girl you bring home to your parents. Like you said.”

“Oh.” Dean’s forehead crinkles into a frown. “So, no arguments against me dating her?”

Castiel’s inner voice screams, _yes. A thousand arguments. Don’t date her, don’t look at her, look at_ me. _See_ me. “None whatsoever,” he dutifully says.

“Oh. Good.” Dean pauses, then smacks his legs with his palms. “Well, better get back to it. You don’t mind if we watch a movie in the living room, do you?”

Castiel settles back onto his pillow, a hand over his eyes. “I’ll bang the wall if it gets too loud.” He points a finger in Dean’s direction. “And _don’t_ make a dirty joke out of that.”

Castiel hears Dean chuckle as he quietly clicks the door open. “Good night, Cas,” he whispers.

 

* * *

 

It’s on a Tuesday, six weeks into Dean and Lisa’s relationship, that Castiel decides to get ridiculously drunk.

The day starts out manageable enough. Dean forgets his lunch (as he usually does), and Castiel decides to bring it by Dean’s classroom (as he usually does).  

The elementary school Dean works at is the stark contrast of Castiel’s university: cheerful, bright, and full of laughing little humans tripping through the halls. Castiel smiles at the cut-out music notes on Dean’s classroom’s door. He remembers helping Dean decorate his classroom in the summer; putting those music notes up and grumbling at the glue getting in his hair. But, secretly, Castiel loved every moment of decorating Dean’s kindergarten music classroom with ridiculous cut-outs and instruments.

Dean is at his desk, head bent over piles of colorful papers. Castiel ignores the twist of his heart when Dean raises his head and gives him a beaming smile. “Did I forget my lunch again?”

Castiel throws the lunchbox on Dean’s desk and quips, “Per usual.”

A grin pulls at Dean’s lips. “You take such good care of me, Cas.”

After a few painful beats of Castiel’s fluttering heart, he clears his throat. “Uh. Yeah well. You won’t take care of yourself, so… I’m happy to help.”

Tearing open the tin foil on his sandwich, Dean frowns at Castiel. “You okay, Cas? You’re acting weird.”

“I feel the same as usual.”

“All right, if you say so.”

Castiel chews at his lip, frowning at Dean’s nimble hands opening the green top of a Tupperware of grapes. Castiel gets caught looking at Dean’s hands a lot: when Dean’s typing on his laptop, when he’s fixing something around the apartment, when he’s playing guitar for his kindergarteners.

Castiel resolutely never looks at Dean’s hands whenever they are stroking through Lisa’s hair. Or when they’re massaging her shoulders while they watch TV in the living room. When Dean lightly touches her shoulder as he walks past her.

“Lisa comes over too much,” Castiel blurts out into the silence.

“Huh?” Dean asks around a mouthful of grapes.

“She’s always there. And I can’t do my lecture notes in the living room anymore.”

“Uh, you can, it’s not like you can’t be there when we’re— “

“And the bathroom always smells like her perfume. It’s disgusting.”

“Cas, what— “

Castiel feels his mouth running on, even though his brain is screaming at it to stop. “And what the hell is wrong with her place? Why don’t you ever go there? Why does she have to be in _our_ space, eating _our_ food, and I have to buy fucking yoghurt for _her— “_

“Because you never said anything!” Dean yells back, rising from his chair. “Where is this coming from? And why are you choosing to scream at me about it at _my_ workplace?”

“Just forget it!” Castiel hears himself yell like a petulant child. “And if you are going to suck face with her all night for seventh night this week, do it in someone else’s living room!”

Castiel is turning to leave when he feels Dean’s firm—wonderful—hand clasp onto his arm. Castiel looks back at Dean’s troubled face.

“Cas, tell me what’s going on, please.”

“I wish you would have _told_ me we’re getting a third roommate,” Castiel says, venom in his voice. “She’ll have to pay rent, you know. And buy her own damn groceries every once in awhile— “

“Cas!” Dean shakes his arm. “Why are you being such an asshole?”

He can feel the words rise in his throat, but he has no way of stopping them as he blurts, ”Because that’s what people do when they’re in love! They act like assholes!”

Dean drops Castiel’s arm. He looks like Castiel just dropped an anvil on his head. Castiel would laugh at the expression if the situation wasn’t so horrifying.

“Cas, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” Castiel takes a shuddering breath, “I’m saying I’m an idiot and I’m moving out by the end of the week, Dean. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t… keep pretending. I thought I could, but I can’t.”

“Pretending that you— “

“I can’t keep giving you ways to break my heart.” Castiel keeps his eyes trained on his shoes; he can’t bear to look at Dean while he’s confessing this. “You don’t do it intentionally, but every woman that walks through our door… my heart breaks more. And now that Lisa is a serious relationship—I just can’t do it anymore.”

He turns to walk quickly out of the room. This time Dean lets him leave.

When Castiel gets to his car, his throat is already choked with unshed tears. He has no idea what the fuck just happened. All he knows is that he is overwhelmed and sad and wants to hide in his room the rest of his life.

Two phonology lectures, one stop to the liquor store, and half a bottle of tequila later, Castiel is blasted drunk well before dinnertime.

Dean kept calling him all afternoon; he’s taken to making a drinking game out of it and takes a shot of tequila every time Dean’s devastatingly gorgeous face appears on his phone screen.

When Dean comes home, he knocks on Castiel’s door. Softly says his name through the door. Asks if they can’t just talk about this.

Castiel buries his head under his pillow and drunkenly slurs for Dean to fuck off.

 

* * *

 

The entire week is hell. Castiel practically breaks his brain with all the ways he avoids Dean during the time he has to be out of his room. He is late to his lectures so that he can wait for Dean to leave in the morning; he eats all his meals in his room and spends limited time in the kitchen preparing it; he blocks all of Dean’s calls. He notices Dean coming home later and later each night–probably spending most of his time at Lisa’s.

Castiel sometimes hears him when he comes home, lingering in the hallway at Castiel’s door, quietly imploring Cas to come out so that they can talk.

But Castiel knows that there’s no talking necessary; he knows what the conversation will be. He doesn’t need to be told by Dean that he is as straight as a pole and wants nothing to do with Castiel’s romantic feelings. He doesn’t need to be explained to that his outburst crossed so many lines in their friendship and was completely uncalled for.

Castiel doesn’t need the conversation to know that he has broken their friendship forever.

Before he leaves for his Friday morning lecture, he packs most of his clothes into a suitcase and leaves it by the front door. He’s already made plans to stay with Balthazar over the weekend while movers take the rest of his things.

The lecture is in his least favorite area of linguistics: semantics. He fumbles through his notes, not entirely confident in what he’s saying, and can only think about the suitcase by the door that Dean will probably trip over when he gets home.

He can only think about the fact that he and Dean will probably never speak again.

Castiel is writing the definition of Montague grammar on the squeaky white board when there’s a loud crash in the back of the room.

“ _Cas_!”

Castiel looks over his shoulder. Everyone in the classroom has turned their heads to gape at the man who has a wild expression on his face, chest heaving.

“Dean,” is all Castiel can choke out.

“Cas, you—” Dean bends over, hands clutching his knees, panting heavily. “Now… will you fucking…. _talk_ to me?”

“Is this part of the lecture?” someone asks from the back of the classroom.

“Dean…” Castiel, over the initial shock, feels anger simmering in his gut. “We’re not having this conversation here.”

“Well, Cas, I would have _loved_ to have the conversation somewhere a little more practical, but you have been ignoring me all fucking week!”

Castiel can’t be publicly humiliated in front of his classroom. He can’t be publicly _rejected._ “Dean, please, we can talk about this when I’m home.”

“You’re not coming home! Your shit is packed up and you’re leaving!” Dean steps forward, hands out imploringly. “You need to just listen to me, for _once._ ”

“Oh my god.” Castiel pinches the bridge of his nose with an explosive sigh. “You’re completely disrupting class that students have paid good money to sit in.”

“We don’t mind!” a girl in the front row says.

“My money can go toward this,” someone says a couple rows back. The rest of the class murmurs their assent.

Castiel glares at them. Then at Dean. “This is inappropriate.”

“Well, you had an outburst in my classroom, so I’m gonna have one in yours!” Dean stands straighter, and says, “I broke up with Lisa.”

“Why in the hell— “

“I broke up with Lisa, so now you have to come home and you _can’t_ leave.”

“Dean, for God’s sake I don’t want you to do _that_ , I’m not saying you stay single the whole time we live together— “

“I don’t want to be single, that’s not the _point_ —”

“Then _what_?”

“I love you, you goddamn idiot!”

It’s so silent that everyone can hear Castiel’s whiteboard marker drop to the ground in surprise. He is incapable of doing anything but stare at Dean—his beautiful, stupid, confusing Dean—with his jaw agape.

Dean says it again, as if there was no way Castiel heard it the first time, “I love you. I’ve loved you since I responded to your craigslist ad for a roommate and we met up in that coffee shop and you took way too much sugar with your tea. I’ve loved you every time you make me that goddamn awful pasta casserole that you think I like. I love you when you smile, when you snap at me for leaving my laundry lying around, when you’re catatonic in the morning before you drink your coffee, when you give me that look with your nose scrunched up like you think I’m an idiot, like you’re doing right now.”

Castiel self-consciously puts a hand over the lower half of his face.

“I love you, and I’m a coward for not telling you sooner, but I do. And I can’t imagine life without you. So, please, say something.”

Castiel lowers his hand. Clears his throat and runs a sweaty palm through his hair. He walks to Dean, who is standing there with his arms still raised and his endlessly green eyes wide. He walks until his chest is in line with Dean’s, and he can feel Dean’s arms lightly touching his.

Castiel takes Dean’s face in his hands, and stares at him very seriously. “Dean.”

Dean seems to be fighting a grin. “Yeah, Cas?”

“I think we need to stop bursting in on each other’s place of employment.”

“I think so too.”

Castiel softly strokes his thumb against Dean’s cheek, and finally lets his face relax into a smile. Not giving a damn who saw at this point, he pulls Dean into a loving, sweet, long-awaited kiss.

Around them, although they barely notice, the students burst into raucous cheers.

 

**Author's Note:**

> if you guys liked this whole cas-pining-while-dean-is-with-lisa thing, check out my current story [Passing Ships](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9855389/chapters/22114280)


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